the hunter
by Melhb
Summary: He's a hunter, waiting patiently in the night for his victims. Tonight he's going to hunt again and his prey is a very precious one! Attention: main character death!


_A little one shot I' ve written after listening to a song that brought up some pictures to my mind. I hope, you enjoy it._

Disclaimer: I do not own criminal minds and I don't got any rights on 30 seconds to mars or Björk, which song inspired me to this story.

* * *

_They feel safe. But it's a false kind of safety. The same kind of safety that a flock of antelopes feels when they think no predators are watching them. Not knowing that I'm always watching them. Humans are the easiest prey of all animals. They're so unsuspecting. They give their trust away so easily, not knowing that they're having an appointment with death. It's the compliance of every hunter to see the pain and the awareness of their approaching death in their eyes. It gets better with every second when they realize that they're not able to save their little lives. You can watch how life leaves them and I don't mean the point where the blood begins to flow. It happens long before that point, you can smell and taste how all of their life powers radiates from them in pure panic. They should be honored to be hunted by such a great hunter like me. They are part of a formidable experience existing since mankind was born. There was always a predator and his prey and I am their predator, their death. I am the danger surrounding them that they aren't aware of. They lock their houses, theirs apartments, don't pick up the phone when they don't recognize the number but that won't help them. They are sacrificed for death. I hunt them after I followed their paths for a long time. It's an archaic feeling to finally kill my prey. Tonight the time has come again. I need to hunt! But tonight my prey is a very special one. I waited for it a long time and I feel ecstatic. It's like a reclusive deer even if it's living in the middle of predators. Tonight its last night has come._

He finishes his entry in his journal, closes it and puts away the pen. He goes to a cabinet and takes out a sheath. He opens the seal and rolls it out. Some knifes lay inside. He takes every single knife and caresses it softly like a lover. He sharpens and polishes them. He does it carefully before he lays them back into the sheath and closes the seal. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. His right hand rests on the sheath. He is ready to hunt. It's cold outside which makes it easy for him to hide himself. His black clothes make him almost invisible in the darkness of this winter evening. The black gloves won't leave any evidence behind. The thought of his prey's red blood spotting the white snow excites him. The anticipation of the hunt grows bigger and bigger till it becomes an undeniable urge. But he knows he has to stay in control. When he is careless he could chase away his prey. There is one important thing left: choosing the right weapon. He opens the sheath again touching it like a relic. His finger traces along every single knife, No one would think those hands belong to a hunter. They are too clean and perfect. But they do their work with an incredible accuracy. He ponders for a moment and chooses the huge hunter knife. He puts it in a halter that was sewn into his jacket in order to strike fast and unnoticed. There is always a danger of getting that close to his prey but that's the way he wants it. He wants to see every emotion. Sometimes he likes to play with it. Just wounds it and bring it to his home where he finishes his bloody work. But tonight he has to strike fast and he knows it. Tonight he can't play a cat and mouse game with his prey. One last time he checks his prearrangements before he leaves the house. He locks the doors proper. He looks forward to the trophy he is going to take.

_It's done. The hunt was successful. It was so easy. My prey didn't see it coming. The shock in his eyes was great when the knife found its way. It could be such a pity if he weren't such a wonderful prey. I enjoyed it a lot watching how shy and careful he wandered in his world. I tasted his blood but I was disappointed. It tasted so normal even if he was so special. I am wondering how long it will take to find his cadaver. Will they search for the trophy long? I am the hunter._

His gaze goes to a huge glass. In it lays hands inserted in formaldehyde. They are beautiful, delicate hands with long slender fingers. Tonight's trophy. A cold evil smile plays on his face.

_If travel is searching _

_And home what's been found_

_I'm not stopping_

_I'm going hunting _

_I'm the hunter _

_I'll bring back the goods _

_But I don't know when_

_I thought I could organize freedom _

_How American of me _

_This is soon _

_You figured it out, didn't you?_

_You could smell it _

_So you left me on my own _

_To complete the mission _

_Now I'm leaving it all behind_

_I'm going hunting _

_I'm the hunter _

_I'm the hunter _

_I'm the hunter_

_You just didn't know me_

(Hunter, 30 seconds to mars)

White snow. Suddenly it changes its color and turns blood red. A body spread on this cold bed. A pair of violated gloves lays beneath. Gloves he will never need again because his hands are gone. Where his hands should be are only two bloody lakes. The slim body looks solemn till your eyes reach his neck. The violated scarf is torn in two with a long clean cut. The cut makes it visible that the man's throat was cut. He had no chance. It happened too fast. His eyes were wide open showing the horror and bewilderment. Now they are broken and the sight of the hunter burned in their retina. Only a closer look makes you see that there is something tacked on the dead body's jacket. It's an identity card. It identifies the man as an agent of the FBI with a picture of the man just a few years younger than today. The man in the picture looks insecure and shy but it's definitely the dead man. The name on the identity card gives a last certainty of the identity of the prey:

SSA Dr. Spencer Reid


End file.
